


Roommates

by Lise



Series: Sam and Loki Are Roommates [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Conversations, Crossover, Dysfunctional Family, Friendship, Gen, Loki's a goddamn mess, cryptic references to events to be discussed later, emergency phone calls, sam winchester is not your therapist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...and sometimes if Loki is with his family on breaks he calls Sam to bitch to him."</p><p>Sam gets a call over Thanksgiving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roommates

**Author's Note:**

> So five months ago on tumblr I was doing a domesticity meme and the lovely [Maura](http://isupportahooker.tumblr.com) requested Loki and Sam, two of my favorite characters with some parallels between them, as roommates. And thus created a monster. 
> 
> This is the first fic in the verse, though not chronologically. (See verse page for a roughly chronological listing.) All you need to know is that basic premise: Sam and Loki are roommates. It works. Mostly. 
> 
> For the curious, bonus materials and the original posting of all fic in this verse can be found [at my tumblr.](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com/tagged/sam+winchester+is+not+your+therapist)

Sam’s phone rang while he and Dean were in the middle of making dinner.  

He looked at the display and just for a moment, considered not picking up. Just thinking it made him feel guilty, though, so he looked at Dean and said, “I’d better take this.”

Dean made a face. “It’s your roommate, isn’t it,” he said, and Sam just managed not to wince at the tone of voice. They hadn’t hit it off, Dean and his roommate, and Sam suspected they never would now.

“Yeah,” said Sam, “It is. Look, it’s just…I’d rather not end up with a situation like last Christmas, okay? He doesn’t have a whole lot of people he talks to.” Dean had the grace to look a little bit guilty.

“Okay, okay, fine,” he said. “You go have your pow-wow, I’ll be right here. Making Thanksgiving dinner. By myself.” Sam flipped him off and retreated into another room, closing the door, and took a deep breath before answering his phone.

“Hey,” he said, carefully, and the first sound wasn’t the shuddery, uneven breathing of someone about to cry, so that was already better than last Christmas. “Loki. What’s-”

“You were thinking about not picking up, weren’t you,” Loki said, voice flat and sharp, and Sam knew better by now than to respond to that tone of voice. There was absolutely no right answer to that question, not with Loki’s uncanny ability to tell when Sam was lying. And Sam wasn’t a bad liar.

“I’m making dinner with Dean,” Sam said mildly, instead. “Why’re you calling? You at home this weekend?”

“I am with my family this weekend,” Loki said, with a very slight air of correction, “Which I suspect answers the first question,” which, yeah, it kind of did. As Dean had put it, _I knew we didn’t have the monopoly on screwed up families, but damn._

Sam only barely knew Loki’s older brother and didn’t think he wanted to meet the parents. He sat down on the nearest couch and propped his chin on his hand. “Why do you even bother going back for the holidays?”

Loki made that curious sound somewhere between a snort and a cough. “Why? I don’t know who’s worse, mother with her _we’d miss you, it’s just not the same without you, family gatherings are an important reminder of our traditions_ or Odin with his long-suffering prodigal son bullshit, _Loki, even though we don’t always approve of your choices, you still have a duty to this family,_ blah blah honor respect. And don’t get me started on Thor. Ultimately it’s just easier to deal with them for a few days than to put up with the lectures.”

Almost enough, Sam thought, to make him miss John. “Yeah,” he said. “I gotcha. So it’s just…same as usual?”

Silence. Sam tensed a little, reflexively. It was another one of those things that when Loki got quiet was when he had to worry most, because either there was going to be an explosion of epic proportions and he had to get out of the blast range or…well. Last Christmas.

“Extended family’s here this year,” Loki said after a moment, voice perfectly flat. He was good at that, at managing to convey absolutely nothing of what he was feeling. “Cousins and everyone. Baldr and Tyr and…I haven’t seen most of these people in years. They all live in Stockholm.”

“Um,” said Sam. “That sounds…crowded,” although he was pretty sure Loki’s family lived in a mansion or something. He knew they were fabulously wealthy. Loki snorted. “What are they. Um. Like?”

“Blonde,” Loki said, shortly. “Accomplished. Freya’s modeling. Tyr’s in the running for the Olympic fencing team. Baldr’s doing something with botany, and you don’t hear anyone giving _him_ trouble over his scholarly pursuits, oh no, it’s _useful to the future of the company_ and if I have to look at that smile of his a moment longer I _swear_ I am going to vomit.” Loki’s voice had risen slightly in pitch and volume so that by the end of his rant Sam pulled the phone a little bit away from his ear.

He waited, instincts telling him that Loki wasn’t done. He wasn’t.

“Baldr’s apparently thinking about transferring over here.” Loki’s voice was back to perfectly flat. “You should have seen the way their _faces_ lit up. They were practically falling over themselves to offer him a place to stay – _just until you get settled, of course –_ and how they’d be _happy to have him_ and then mother turns to me and says _and of course you can stay in Loki’s old room, right?_ so I said _of course, it’ll give me an excuse not to come back here next break_ and I suppose perhaps I shouldn’t have but-” Sam heard Loki take a sharp breath in, could picture the way he would almost visibly pull himself together. “Would it _kill_ them to make at least a pretense at not attempting to replace me with the son they always wanted?” His tone did a good impression of light, flippant irritation, _Sam, your socks don’t match, you can’t seriously be intending to go out like that._

A good impression. “Loki,” Sam started to say, and stopped. “…well. You make a fair point. I mean, if you don’t have a room to stay in there’d be no point in going back.”

Loki made the quiet huffing sound that was his version of amusement. Another brief silence. “Everyone adores him. He’s happy and bright enough to pass for clever and utterly inoffensive.” Loki paused. Lower, “Thor adores him.”

Sam thought of Dean in the kitchen. Of all the times they’d fought and bickered and been at each others’ throats, and as always when he talked to Loki, was stupidly grateful that they’d never lost track of the fact that they still loved each other. “It’s just the novelty,” Sam said, though he knew it sounded weak. Indeed, the sound Loki made was eloquently scornful. He had a whole range of those. “Look,” he added hastily. “What are…where are you right now?”

“My room,” Loki said, after a moment, then corrected, “That is, what is for the time being my room. I left discreetly but I anticipate my mother will be up to chide me shortly.”

“Is there something you can do to – I don’t know, wind down?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Loki snapped, and Sam sighed.

“I’m not,” he said, a little more sharply than he meant to. “I know how it can get, okay? And I’m just saying…do what you need to.”

“That was the idea behind calling you,” Loki said, and if his voice was snippy in tone, Sam couldn’t keep himself from feeling just a little bit touched. _You’re not his therapist,_ Sam reminded himself, and as always mentally added, _not that he has one._

The one time Sam had tried to bring it up – sometime after last Christmas – Loki had given him the cold shoulder for a week after dropping some extremely choice comments on being able to cope on his own, thank you very much.

To which Sam had said, _yeah, clearly not_ and kicked off one of their nastier fights.

“And that’s…I’m glad you did,” Sam said, quickly, realizing maybe he’d been silent too long. “Really. You have books in your room, right? Maybe you should read one of them. Something on physics so I don’t kick your ass next time we talk about it, yeah?”

Momentary silence, and Loki said, so quietly Sam had to strain to hear, “I hate them. I hate all of them. With their smug self-congratulation and constant affirmation of how _wonderful_ they all are and the worthlessness of everything that they are not-”

“Loki,” Sam said, cutting him off, because he knew a rant getting going when he heard one. “It’s just a few more days, all right? And then you don’t have to deal with them for a while. Maybe see if you can talk to Thor-” Loki made a strangled sound, and Sam hurried on. “I know, I know, but maybe just – see. And if all else fails-” Oh, he was going to regret this. “If all else fails, you can call roommate emergency and I’ll back you up on it, okay?”

“Sam,” Loki said, and stopped. He sounded awkward, as he always did when someone did something nice that had genuinely caught him off guard. “…I think I hear my mother coming.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “—the offer stands, though. And I’m sorry about your family. Really. It sucks. I get that.”

“Well,” said Loki, after a moment’s silence. “I hope your Thanksgiving goes better than _mine._ Though I doubt that would be difficult.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Probably not.”

“Oh, damned-” Sam caught, and then, fainter, “Brother?” Sam did not quite wince. He recognized that voice. It was difficult not to, at the volume it was generally used. And he’d had the misfortune to hear it raised.

“Not mother,” Loki drawled. “I’d better go.” A brief pause. “Thank you, Sam.” The connection clicked closed. Sam hung up a moment later, and looked at his phone, chewing on his lip. Then he stood up and walked back into the kitchen, took a deep breath of the smell of mashed potatoes.

“Well?” said Dean, and Sam shook his head a little.

“It’s fine. Hey, Dean-”

“You know,” Dean said without turning around, “The real reason I hate when you get these phone calls is because you’re so insufferably _sappy_ afterwards.”

“I was going to say that the stuffing is very close to getting lit on fire,” Sam said, which was not true, but worked just as well. Dean already knew anyway. Sam hoped Loki worked out the same thing someday.

Thought of Thor in the emergency room last Christmas, pacing back and forth with an expression of pure devastation on his face. Maybe someday, he thought. A blind man could see that it’d be good for both of them.


End file.
